Saving Light
by benitato
Summary: "When I say it doesn't hurt, that means I can bear it." A collection of one-shots, drabbles, and whatnot from the romanticizing perspective of Killua Zoldyck. About Gon, of course. Note: later chapters may include perspectives from other characters. (Disclaimer: yeah, these smol lil beans belong to Togashi, who still refuses to show any hints of an upcoming arc in the anime)
1. chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Best Kind of Pain

i. 

" _I found love where it wasn't supposed to be: right in front of me" -_ Amber Run

 _when I say it doesn't hurt, that means I can bear it_

True enough to his word, one can count on his hand the number of things that made Killua Zoldyck hurt. But nothing - not the painfully delicious electric shocks that once caused his body to convulse, not the blows delivered to every inch of exposed skin, not the whips lashing across his protruding ribs- _nothing_ , prepared him for the boy with honey skin, carrying sunlight in his veins, and the pain that came with him.

Gon Freecs made Killua hurt in all the wrong places.

Just watching him made the Zoldyck heir wonder if the boy brought the sun to its knees every night.

In the world of darkness he was born into, Killua saw and encountered very few sources of pure radiance in the fourteen years of his life.

 _Gon you are light_

 _He is the epitome of Goodness,_ Killua realizes.

 _But how could Goodness ever love such a thing, with such a crooked heart_

Absentminded touches, laying side by side on warm grass, laughter; all this fills Killua's heart with the prospect of something new, something other than bloodlust and killing.

And whenever Gon utters

" _Killua_!"

The said boy is certain no one's ever spoken it with such reverence, Gon's voice breathing out his name like a prayer. It makes him want to cower in the presence of terrible warmth. It makes his head pound and his eyes clear and his feet tremble. It makes his chest collapse into itself, and no amount of clawing at it would give him air. _Terrible_.

Killua Zoldyck didn't usually hurt, but now he did. And if it always came in the form of honey skin and amber eyes, he didn't mind this kind of pain.

Not one bit.

 _Song used: I Found by Amber Run_


	2. Chapter 2: How Could I Not?

Chapter 2: How Could I Not? 

**A/N:** Idk why this app won't let me put chapter breaks or asterisks or thingies, but all three events in this chapter are different scenarios: first scene (I made up) is prolly Killua's training, second is the Hunter exam, third is episode 70, after Razor's dodgeball game. Heh.

-b

 _ii._

 _"I don't know how your brain works so well and if I did I might explode._

 _Even if could, I don't think that I would, want to decipher your series of codes._

 _A lifetime of trouble but how could I not love you?" -_ Tom Rosenthal 

" _Again_." Silva Zoldyck's voice cuts through the haze of pain surrounding the white-haired predecessor's head.

Shakily, Killua stands up, his vision swimming in red and black, chest heaving.

 _Black_

Illumi's hair, long and serpentine and swinging in a curtain. Smirking, he steps out the door as Killua receives another round of beating.

 _Red_

Gashes opening on Killua's body everywhere his father hits him. Killua knows that this is only to make him a better, stronger assassin. But these sparring sessions seem to last longer than usual; perhaps it's the fatigue getting to him.

 _what did i do to deserve this?_

A collective gasp is drawn out from the onlookers as Bodoro's body hits the ground with a sickening _thud_!

Killua looks around, a strangled yell shaking him out of his bloodlust reverie. His eyes land on a horrified Kurapika and an equally terrified Leorio. He was subconsciously glad that Gon was nowhere to be seen and hadn't witnessed the scene that had just unfolded.

No, not scene.

 _Murder._

Never mind that he couldn't pass the Hunter exam now; Killua had yet again spilled unnecessary blood. Typical for someone who was born for the purpose of reaping, nothing else. He deserved their disgust and reveled in their horror.

But god, the look in his friends' eyes.

 _what did i do to deserve this?_

" _No_ ", Killua firmly stated, hands at his sides.

A dangerous gleam evident in Gon's eyes, he starts moving towards the assassin. Killua responds by moving backwards at the same pace, until his back hits the wall.

" _Let me see_ ". Gon insists, eyebrows pulled together, as they usually were when he wanted something with a fierce resolve.

Exasperated, Killua thrusts out both hands. A minute gasp, so quiet he isn't even sure he heard it, makes him raise his eyebrows.

"Killua, why didn't you-" , Gon looks at the other boy, eyes hooded with regret and voice thick with _something_. It makes Killua warm, and he isn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"It doesn't hurt that-" an involuntary yelp comes out from the assassin's mouth before he can stop it. Gon's fingers stop from their task of poking at the blue and black lumps that were once Killua's hands.

A satisfactory smirk quickly turns into a sad smile. Gon's fingers return to their task, albeit more gently than before. Killua is sure this would be the undoing of him, his insides unraveling in sync with the lines Gon keeps tracing on his palms.

Gon reaches in his pocket to pull out something white. _Gauze_ , Killua realizes, and his heart stops beating for a second as Gon starts winding the cloth around the first hand.

Killua could only stare as the white covered up the blue and black. Gon's hands, which carried the force of two tons and determination, were now gentle and light and healing.

"I needed you to do it, to hold the ball, and I'm sorry", Gon says quietly, tucking the last of the gauze into a knot.

Killua felt a wave of pride overcome him - this boy, this unwavering force of strength, _needed_ him. Killua was the only one who could have done it. For him. Always for him.

Killua stared out at the Patch of Shore window. Letting the cool night air clear his head, he looked back at Gon, and wished he hadn't because he _melted_.

Gon was looking at him with a fierce certainty he only reserved for when he was fighting. Killua felt absolutely unworthy of such pure attention.

"I wish you didn't disregard your own pain like that", Gon says, still staring at wide-eyed boy. Killua can't help but laugh at the irony.

"Isn't it my place to tell you to stop doing stupid things?" Killua smiles softly.

"And it's my job to keep doing them", Gon answers resolutely with a proud grin.

They laugh breathlessly. Outside, the stars shone with intensity and the waves lapped at the shores, desperate for touch as Killua was desperate to commit to memory that very moment.

 _what did i do to deserve this?_

 _Song used: How Could I Not? by Tom Rosenthal_


	3. Chapter 3: Self Deprecation

Chapter 3: Self Deprecation 

iii. 

" _Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts_ " - Green Day

 _you have it so easy Killua,_

 _since you don't seem to care_

It took Killua a few seconds to register the accusation because surely - _surely_ \- Gon wouldn't dare say it. Not to Killua, of all people.

But he did, and shock overpowered the hurt that stemmed from Gon's words.

 _Take it back you bastard_

He came to NGL because Gon asked him to. (Or would've; he might as well have). Not to fight for a futile cause, not for Kite, but for Gon. Always.

 _Not fair_

Sure, Ging's son might've met Kite earlier, but other than that they practically spent the same amount of time with him; so what was Kite to Gon? The father figure he never had?

 _You had no right_

-to say those words, Killua thought. The words Killua wanted to never hear again, wanted to disprove so badly, came from the person he least expected to.

 _Unfeeling_

 _Inhuman_

 _Machinery_

 _Brutal_

Various other synonyms ran through Killua's head. He didn't even realize when he'd started walking; if he moved fast enough, perhaps he could escape Gon's words, and perhaps that could make them untrue.

 _I care I care I care_

If Gon honestly thought Killua didn't grieve over Kite, then what else differentiated Killua from the Chimera Ants? At least the Ants lamented the death of their own kind; did Gon think Killua was beneath this emotion?

It made him so _angry_. But it was useless to be angry at Gon right now - a Gon blinded and broken by rage.

 _Was the amount of time you spent with Kite enough to justify that rage_

 _Would you have done the same for_

"-me?" Killua choked out his thoughts; couldn't keep them in. His chest heaved, and he gasped for oxygen.

 _Or do I just clean up the trail of brokenness you leave behind_

He realized he didn't want to know the answer.

 _*moments later_ * 

Killua stood at the edge of the crater, looking down at the blood red monstrosity that was the third Royal Guard.

"Sorry, nothing personal." Killua said calmly, walking down the almost vertical landscape with apparent ease, body shrouded with pulsing electricity. Sparks danced between his fingers.

"This is me just letting off some steam".

As he lunged at Youpi, Killua realized that this may very well be the death of him.

But what did he care? After all, he had it easy.

 _Song used: Minority by Green Day_


	4. Ch4

Chapter 4: Hold The Sky For You

 **(Alternately titled: Gon takes care of a sick Killua - therefore resulting in a really long, angsty, fluffy fic.)**

"Gon, I'm dying."

Killua's words hung in the air, cold sweat pasting silver hair to his temples.

Gon laughed, "No, you're not. And I brought you medicine."

"If by medicine you mean _Leorio_ I'll-" Killua's threat was cut off by a coughing fit. Gon immediately rushed to help Killua sit up, and handed him a drink and a pill, which the latter ingested.

"See? Normal aspirin." Gon grinned.

"I'm immune to a hundred different types of poison, and _this_ is what gets me?" Killua mumbled, exasperated.

Gon smiled, earning a glare from the assassin.

"What're you laughing for, _idiot_?" Killua snapped.

"I bet you made me sick on purpose", he ranted, "I bet you did it so you could train more without me and surpass me and be better and-" a hacking cough once again cut off his monologue.

"How can I beat you? You're the strongest person I know, Killua." Gon stated matter-of-factly as he handed a delirious Killua another glass of water, who gulped it down greedily. Even in his agitated state, he apparently still had the ability to be flustered.

"Idiot. Don't you ever get embarrassed by what you say?" Killua snorted, trying to hide the shivers that racked his body. Gon, unfailingly noticing Killua's attempts, reached over to put another blanket atop the feverish mess.

"I don't get embarrassed because it's true." answered Gon cheerfully.

Killua rolled his eyes - or at least tried to. Every movement he made seemed weighed down. He kept them closed for a minute, focusing instead on the warmth that was Gon. A hand grasped Killua's, and it felt so comfortable that the assassin didn't even bother flinching at the physical contact, which he usually hated.

Just as Killua was on the brink of dozing off, he felt the edge of his mattress rise and heard footsteps leaving. He cried out unintelligibly (what he said, he wasn't sure - Gon's name? The different ways to dislocate body parts?) at the sudden loss of warmth.

"Hold on, I'll be right back", assured Gon, the answer somewhat faint and coming from another room.

Killua could barely comprehend anything at this point - he just wanted to feel the light again. He cried out Gon's name (at least, he thought it was) a few times.

"I'm here, I'm here", Gon answered, and Killua could hear the smile in his voice, "I just got you some breakfast." He didn't even sound mad or annoyed. Saint Gon. He set the plate on the bedside table and placed a hand on Killua's paler-than-usual forehead. The latter was uncharacteristically docile and let out a quiet sigh. This made Gon wonder if-

"Killuaaaaa, don't go back to sleep, you have to eat!" Gon laughed, softly shaking the other. Killua mumbled a threat about knowing how to cut off fingers in the most painful way possible.

"I've lost a hand before; I doubt I'll mind losing a few fingers." Replied Gon.

Killua chose to ignore this.

"Alright. Just this once." Gon sighed in surrender and slumped in his chair by the sickbed. Eyes half-lidded, he stared fondly at the bundle lying in front of him. The silver head tossed every now and then in a fitful sleep, making Gon's heart wrench a bit, not knowing how to help. Gon knew the sickness only made Killua's nightmares worse (on the very few occasions when he did get sick). He couldn't help it; guilt ransacked every corner of his mind.

"You don't hold the sky on your shoulders, you know." Killua's voice came out raspy and accusing.

"Hm?" Was Gon's distracted answer.

"No one's yet found a cure for the common cold, and it sure as hell ain't your fault."

Gon's eyes shifted to Killua's at this; the assassin's blues bore a hint of sadness and an overwhelming intensity.

"It's stupid to feel guilty every time I get sick, especially when nothing can be done." Killua snapped, but softened immediately. "I appreciate it, though."

The other boy brightened visibly at this, and Killua couldn't help but smile - Gon's happiness was _that_ infectious. They sat in comfortable silence for a minute.

" _Ne_ , Killua, I'd hold it for you, yanno?"

"Mm?"

"The sky."

Killua's eyes flew open and landed on Gon. Tiredly, the Zoldyck heir smiled.

"Don't go around saying stuff like that. I might do something stupid."

"Like what?" Challenged Gon.

"Believe you." Killua said.

A soft, sharp intake of breath came from Gon. Killua, afraid he'd gone too far, didn't dare look; instead closing his eyes. A jostle made him start, and a touch made him still.

Gon pressed his forehead to Killua's.

Everything between them was touching, except their mouths. Killua died a little at the implication of that tiny space.

Too tired to fight or complain, Killua let their breaths mingle, heart heavy with the thought that Gon was only touching him because he was sick.

But this, right now, was enough.


	5. Ch5

Chapter 5: The Gales Of December 

" _Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."_

 _\- The Old Astronomer To His Pupil_ by Sarah Williams

 _Beautiful_ , Killua Zoldyck thought as he stared down at the lamp lit streets of Yorknew City.

The cold night air blew mercilessly against his slender frame, covered only by his trademark turtleneck and pants. He thought he could see a hint of snow in the air from where he stood on the hotel's rooftop, precariously close to the edge. Looking down twenty floors below sent a thrill he felt all the way to his feet. He wasn't stupid, of course; he leaned slightly backwards, arms crossed, compensating for the push of the air from behind.

This was one of his favorite places to be - the first being beside Gon, who, Killua assumed, was still sleeping in a separate bed in a room that they shared.

The wind blew harder, and Killua tightened his grip on the sleeves of his sweater. Looking down didn't feel so thrilling anymore; only made him dizzy and light-headed.

He closed his eyes and wondered what it felt like to _fly_.

"KILLUAAAAA STOPGETDOWNFROMTHEREWHATAREYOUDOING" almost made him lose his footing. Killua whipped around to face the only person he knew to be stupid enough to sneak up on him and be loud about it afterwards.

"You're not supposed to do that!" A furious Gon jabbed his finger into Killua's chest. The other boy came prepared for the bitter winds, armed with his green jacket and a scarf wrapped hastily around his neck.

"I can do what I want, you know." Retorted Killua, slightly pissed off at the fact that loud, noisy Gon managed to surprise him.

"You could've fallen." Said Gon quietly.

"Almost did."

"Were you planning to?"

"Not that desperate."

The banter dropped, but the tension in the air thickened. Killua looked at Gon - _really looked -_ and tried to observe what almost two years of Hunting had done to his friend.

The first thing Killua always noticed about Gon was his hands. Long and tapered, they were clenched into fists at either side. Killua's eyes trailed upwards and noticed the tense set of Gon's shoulders. Ink-black hair still pointy as ever, hardly visible against the midnight sky. The red scarf he'd flung around his neck floated behind him, manipulated into a dance by invisible zephyr hands.

 _A picturesque scene_ , Killua thought as his breath caught, not the first time it's happened while looking at Gon. Lately, he had been doing this more frequently.

He let his gaze shift to Gon's eyes. Amber colored usually, but a murky brown when he let emotions overrule his thinking. Right now, they were light and intense and piercing and ... _looking back at Killua_.

"What were you doing, then?" Queried Gon.

Killua hesitated; he knew he couldn't lie. Besides, he was too tired to think up of a rational explanation.

"Couldn't sleep." He huffed instead, eyes downcast, breath visible in the rapidly dropping temperature.

"Oh. The dreams?"

"Yeah."

"M'sorry." Gon mumbled.

"What for?" Killua snorted.

"Almost making you fall."

Killua was about to protest at this, but let his pride come second.

"It was nothing." Killua half-smiled instead.

"It's not nothing to me. _You're_ not nothing to me." Gon said quietly.

Killua's breath caught in his throat again. _Well shit, I'm done for,_ he thought.

"You know that, don't you, Killua?" Insisted Gon.

The Zoldyck could only manage a nod.

With a satisfied grunt, Gon pulled Killua to sit down on the ledge. Their feet dangled above the colorful commotion of the streets.

"Tell me about the dreams." Gon said softly.

And Killua told him of the bloodshed.

He told Gon of how he dreamed about pain; never inflicted on himself, but always on others. Those people he loved the most. All the torture Killua endured in his childhood, they had to undergo while he stood by and could do nothing.

Killua told of how, on bad nights, _he_ was the one doing the hurting.

Eyes heavy and limbs nearly frozen, Killua finished his story. He shivered involuntarily. Gon shifted around for a moment, and Killua was surprised to feel something immediately draped around his neck. He looked down to see the fraying red threads of a scarf.

"You're not like that. Never will be." Gon smiled fiercely, a source of heat on his own.

"How are you so sure?" Killua whispered, eyes shut tightly.

"I'm not, but I won't ever let you become that; else I'll die trying." Came Gon's resolute reply.

And that was all it took for Killua to melt.

He grasped for Gon blindly and desperately, and Gon did the same. Face buried in the warm crook where Gon's neck met his shoulder, Killua finally felt anchored.

" _Gomen ne_." Killua mumbled.

"You're my friend." Gon simply said and tightened his grip on Killua's shoulders.

From a distance, you could barely distinguish the two figures, so close they were, save for the stark contrast of silver and black. And as the city started to wake up, the morning gales of December swept over a sleeping assassin held in place by warm hands.


	6. And Perhaps This Is Love

Killua is uncertain, but he supposes he has some ideas about what love is.

And what it is not.

Love is not the dark, uninhabitable room in the deepest recesses of the Zoldyck manor Killua is forced to stay in for hours at a time. It is not in the cold seeping through his bared limbs and into his bruised bones.

Love is when the cellar doors open, and Gotoh comes to collect Killua's unconscious, battered body, cradling it as gently and carefully as if it possessed the frailty of glass.

Love is not the gashes Killua acquires merely seconds into relentless sparring with Silva Zoldyck. It is not the painfully delicious electric shocks that once caused his body to convulse.

Love is not the blunt blows delivered to every inch of exposed skin, hardening until impervious to almost anything. It is not in the warm blood trickling down the corner of Killua's mouth.

Love is in the careful way his father dabs at the red stain — large hands with boulder-like knuckles that have torn open throats are now light on Killua's face.

Love is not Illumi's velvet purr, quiet yet ringing in Killua's mind, urging him to

 _run, you can't defeat it_

and

 _kill_.

No, Killua is sure love is anything but _that_.

Love.

Curious, really, how often his family throws in the word in almost all of their sentences.

 _Killua, it's because we love you_

— is the most frequently used.

It is used when barbed whips draw scarlet lines across his pale skin. It is used when he is electrocuted more times than he can count. It is used when he is forbidden to go outside the estate.

It is used as Illumi twists the neck of one of the children playing dodgeball under the sickly yellow of the lamp post.

 _We love you, Kil—_

Yet if they were willing to take other people's lives for him, then Killua supposes that in their own twisted way, his family _does_ love him.

But Killua has had quite enough of that kind of love.

Love, Killua thinks, is in the absentminded way Kurapika reaches out to ruffle his own unruly, white hair. (Killua dodges it, but he's realized he doesn't mind the affectionate touch. Much.) It is in the mild reprimanding the Kurta gives to his companions, and it is in the rare smiles they draw out of him.

Love is in the rough wrestling Leorio engages them in, occasionally ending with the elder out of breath and accusing the two adolescents (Killua, mostly) of cheating and resorting to underhanded tricks.

Love is in the mock-angry retorts and insults exchanged between Leorio and Killua, both accepting that profanity to them is the same as endearments.

Love —Killua smiles at one of the figures beside him— is simply, _obviously_ , in Alluka's eyes.

He wonders when he'd started recognizing Alluka's blues as a shade associated with her alone, and not when he looks at his reflection.

It is in the frail strength of those fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. It is in the adoring croak of Nanika's voice as she proclaims her fondness for Killua and Killua alone. Killua thinks there can be no higher privilege than this.

That is, until, he looks at the other figure sitting beside him.

By all rights, Killua should have had little to no chance to know what love is, given the things he's done and the things done _to_ him. But now, he thinks he's been blessed with one too many chances to figure it out.

A hand grasps his, and Killua blinks.

Gon smiles.

Something in Killua breaks a little.

Leaning back and looking at the other figure beside him, Killua thinks that perhaps he _does_ understand what love is, and that it starts but does not end with the boy within arm's reach.

Love is in warm, calloused hands. It is rough hugs and messy high-fives. Love is in stares that last a second too long, and it is fluttering pulses that result.

Killua, in turn, grabs Alluka's hand and squeezes it softly, earning him a quiet sigh.

Love was —or rather, is— the way Gon declared, a long time ago, under the same stars swallowing up the same night sky—

 _let's stick together and travel the world_

and love was the lack of hesitation as Killua agreed.

Killua shifts his gaze to Gon, and finds contentment in crossed ankles and restless tan limbs. He sees sunlight trapped in the smattering of freckles across a pointed nose. He hears, but doesn't really listen, as Gon points out various constellations emphasized due to Whale Island's lack of light pollution.

Killua decides that it'd be a whole lot nicer if Gon would just _shut up_.

He pulls one of his hands free, grabs Gon's chin, and quiets him with a soft press of his mouth.

" _Better_ ," Killua breathes as he pulls away. Gon looks a little lost and a whole lot dazed — he reaches for Killua again, only to be cut off by a scuffling movement.

Alluka squeals and stomps over to the inviting warmth of the Freecss' house, wanting to avoid further "sudden, unwarranted displays of affection in front of unsuspecting sisters".

Killua hits Gon on the shoulder good-naturedly, but almost immediately pulls him back close.

" _You_ started it," Gon's complaint comes out half-hearted and not much of a complaint at all. He leans in towards Killua.

Love —Killua smiles— is the unfocused, almost sleepy look in Gon's half-lidded, tawny eyes. Love is the trail that Killua's hand leaves as it moves from Gon's chin to the back of his neck. It is in the press of their foreheads and the clashing of teeth.

Love is the soft, inaudible sighs their souls emit as their hands find each other and their fingers tangle.

It echoes in the windless night, the willful proclamation Gon makes for the world to hear—

 _It has to be Killua_

and perhaps this is love.

"Idiot." Killua grumbles.

(It means _I love you, too._ )


End file.
